Internal Struggles of a Working Parent

This little composition was written 3 years ago...

“Sophie, take a picture of my armpits!” screamed Audrey, my 5 year old to her older sister who had been designated as the family historian for the day, as we sat in traffic on the 91 freeway on the way to a baseball game. Garrett, my 2 year old, is shaking his head to the music on the car radio. Sophie obliges Audrey as John and I laugh hysterically. I think to myself, it’s moments like this that I remember why I signed up as a Mom.

As I let Audrey’ ludicrous exclamation sink in, I wonder how many of the ridiculous moments of my children’s lives I miss throughout the day as I sit in meetings or write up documents. Then I wonder how many other Moms out there ask themselves the same question. Ok, let’s not be gender specific. How many other parents out there ask themselves the same question?

Rigor is operative word in order to be a working parent. Endless loops of bulleted list that swim in my head characterize my day. Here’s how it goes:

For x = 1 to N
• Wake up at 6 and get ready for work
• Get the kids up and ready for school
• Leave and get to work by 8 at the latest
• Spend the day at work and actually get work done
• Make any doctor appointments, play dates, dental appointments
• Pick up the kids from school
• Take the kids to whatever activity they happen to have for the day
• Get home, make dinner and help the kids with homework
• Get the kids bathed and ready for bed
• Make the kids’ lunches for the next day
• Get some additional work done
• Go to sleep eventually
Next x, where N = no end in sight; x is measured in day increments

This is just not a glamorous list, is it? Why can’t I simply join the ranks of content housewives that spend their days trekking their kids from one activity to another? These Moms seem to have it made - they get to spend time with their kids.

But are they really content? Catch phrases have come and gone to characterize this internal struggle parents go through. Quality Time. Active Parenting. Just to name a few.

I personally find contentment in knowing I exercised both the right and left sides of my brain during the day. I guess contentment for me boils down to a burning desire to keep learning. To constantly ask questions and strive to get the answers to them. To negotiate with adults about keeping solutions within scope and not just negotiating with kids about which Strawberry Shortcake DVD they get to watch if they’re good. To know that my identity is not just wrapped up in being a Mom.

So what damage am I inflicting on my children when they see me running from one task to another, most of the time in parallel mode? How does this guilt impact my level of engagement at work and the work products I produce?

I’d like to think that this guilt has made me a more efficient worker. That I am able cut to the chase and produce what needs to be done in the time I have available. That I am not going to waste anybody else time because I know that other people’s time is just as valuable as my own.

I’d like to think that my children learn what good work ethic is about. That nobody is simply entitled to anything. They see enough of the perceived affluence in Orange County and the sense of entitlement that huge portions of its population adopt as an attitude. One of my neighbors was featured on “The Real Housewives of O.C.” – and I can’t help but judge them. I never want my kids to end up like their kids.

I actually love the fact that my kids see me go to work. I know that they understand that the work that I do is partially responsible providing them with shelter, food, and clothing. I know that they understand that the time I do spend with them is valuable to me.

So I treasure moments when one of my kids says something completely out of the ordinary. Or when they beat me at UNO fair and square. Or when one of them gives me an unsolicited bear hug and tells me that they love me.

So I treasure the moments when I raise a point in a meeting that nobody’s considered. Or when I learn what GAL means. Or when I fall flat on my face during a discussion and walk away knowing I just learned something.